no – but thunder
all along the night we set our course
that hurl the lightning bolt, that force
the sickness from our tiny minds

some new emotion must be found
some feeling we have not yet tried
to frame, against the gurning face
the tide, so murderously heaped
and churned about us
though we grimace back
our rain-slashed, puzzle faces
stealing action, glimpse by glimpse

spun out – reeling further, tumbling
trough from crest, the swell around
all we give to know this ocean
feel its song and join each verse
that turn the surf to solid ground

was the thunder not the grinding
of our hull along the reef?
was the lightning not that moment
knowledge transcended belief?

still, we sail again,
still fever pounds and pummels us
to go out onto the sea of blindness
furious, more the dark
to know

London 2010

André Rostant
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